stars watch, let them stare
by helplesslynerdy
Summary: "I can handle you changing. Did it just fine. The question is, Doctor, can you handle me changing?"


The warm night breeze blew past, briefly holding her hair aloft, before the strands tickled their way into settling back on her bare arms.

She didn't even notice.

Her knees dug into her forehead, as she squeezed her eyes ever tighter. Maybe the smaller she made herself, she'd finally disappear. Sucked into the hole burning in the centre of her chest.

Enough pieces of herself had been chipped away from the past couple of years, and she sometimes wondered how there was anything left of Rose Tyler.

In his absence, Jackie Tyler's fears had been realized. Instead of things falling into the familiar rhythm of home- Chinese takeout, quiz shows, over-brewed tea- Jackie watched as Rose forged on, alone and determined. Wouldn't sleep properly, ate as an afterthought, drove herself on- rocketing herself into the dark space between pinpoints of light.

Her baby girl had become the Doctor.

Every time Rose slowed enough to see the look in her mother's eye, she would plaster on a grin, full of assurance and promise. Pretend enough and it's true, yeah? She'd come back. Rose Tyler would return, with her Cheshire smile and glint in her eye.

But instead _he_ was back.

A new-old him. Or was it old-new?

At first it had been brilliant. They had spent most of it doubled over, nigh-hysterical remembering their former exploits.

And there were so many of them.

Promises were hastily made. Yet instead of on a barren planet, the glare of the sun off a flying stingray making her shield her eyes, forever was breathed in front of a judge after…too short of a time. She twirled the evidence absentmindedly around her finger. Interlocking symbols of eternity- their rosy gold dulled by the moonlight.

One day the memories ran out.

They couldn't hold on to the past. Couldn't travel to it. Couldn't make it last.

No more running- they had to stop and consider the future. Had to actually _look_ at what was in front of them.

Torchwood, the hardened lines of her body…the scars. Rose had hoped beyond hope that he would glue her back together. The magical properties of his hand entwined with hers. They'd fall back into their stride and she'd be able to take a breath that didn't feel like it was only halfway filling her lungs.

Instead he began to keep his distance, if not physically. The doors within his eyes returned, each day a new one slamming shut with a padlock. When he did look at her, it was as if she was a twisted mirror, crack'd and taunting him with the carnival likeness of his lost love. She swallowed against the bile rising in her throat.

The pink and yellow girl with stars in her eyes and an open hand waiting for him was no more.

The rubbery swish of the door to their flat's balcony caused her to inhale sharply, but she didn't turn around.

She heard the metal of his chair scrape the concrete as he sat beside her, but still out of her line of sight.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked, his voice still gravelly from sleep. Just another difference.

She closed her eyes, thankful for the curtain of her hair shielding her from him.

A couple of silent minutes ticked by without a syllable between them. She finally opened her eyes to see him crouched in front of her, in naught but his tartan pajama bottoms. Concern drew his brows together. His fingers hesitantly rose to brush back the hair from her face.

"Rose?" he whispered.

Before she could think, she heard herself ask, "Do I make you proud?"

He blinked quickly. "What?"

"Are you proud of me?"

His hands were now framing her face, lifting her eyes to look up to his shocked ones. For a brief moment, his mouth worked without any words coming out before he said, "How could you think I would be anything but?"

She shrugged before saying, "I can see it. Every time I head off to work, as I dress in the morning, even over our dinner, it's like you can barely look at me. I'm not 'your Rose' anymore."

"But-"

"I can handle you changing. Did it just fine. The question is, Doctor, can _you_ handle _me_ changing?" She kept on, "You know what it's like? Trying to go on in a normal life, even a life dealing with aliens, without you? I've tried my best while you weren't here. I still did so much and I…hate myself for living and dying on your approval. Hate that every day I wish I could turn back the clocks to be that shop girl again for you."

His eyes lost focus as his fingers slipped from her face. He drew himself up mechanically and turned, leaning against the balcony railing. She blinked back the tears that made her eyes burn. She would not fall to pieces in front of him.

After he did not turn around, she stood up to go back inside. The night air had become too chilly for her vest and boxers. Her fingers had curled around the handle when his low voice stopped her.

"I did this."

She turned back to face him. "Did what?"

He leaned forward, head lowering between his arms, his back and shoulders flexing as his grip tightened on the railing. He suddenly pushed himself back upright, whirling to face her. "It's my fault. This. You."

She shook her head perplexedly, lips parting to speak before he interrupted, "It is. If you had never met me, you wouldn't have felt the need to bear the world's problems on your shoulders." His head hung. "You wouldn't be…like me."

"Oh, don't go pity-partying yourself."

He rolled his eyes. "Yes. Because becoming a soldier is what you wanted out of life."

"I didn't 'become a soldier.' I took on my job so I could continue to _help_ people, even on a much smaller scale. Granted, I've missed you to the point of feeling useless. Some days it hurt to breathe." Her eyes slid shut. "I didn't want to let go...I hadn't figured out how to fix that yet," she whispered. A beat passed, and her eyes opened. "But even if it were true, don't you think that it was my choice? I could have gone back to the shop. But I didn't want to! I had to find you."

"Of course," he laughed bitterly, face still to the floor. "You had to practically kill yourself to get back to me."

Rose clenched her small fists. She crossed the balcony and pressed her forehead into his chest while wrapping her arms around his waist, causing him to briefly jerk in surprise. "You died for me. How could I not?" she mumbled into his skin. "I didn't want to go back to who I was before. You had made me better." She cupped his cheeks, lifting his face so she could look into his eyes. "Besides, I had already broken you in. Didn't want to have to train another bloke. Universe-hopping was a small price to pay." Her eyes, though gaining some of their light again in mirth, begged him to come back.

His laugh was part exhale, part sob. "And I still don't mind correctly."

She smiled softly before mimicking his drawn out words,"Weeeell, always knew you'd be a work-in-progress."

He leaned down to kiss her forehead. "I am so proud of you, Rose Tyler," he mumbled, lips featherlight across her skin. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." His lips traced the contours of her face as he continued apologizing. There was no space between them as he held her as close as physically possible. "Never meant you to think anything different." He finally kissed her fully- not a fix, but a promise.

They finally drew back, and he leaned his forehead to hers. "Because _you_ make _me_ better."


End file.
